


Hopeless

by FenHarelsPride (Andauril)



Series: Siryn Lavellan [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 00:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3999565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andauril/pseuds/FenHarelsPride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As vehemently as she tries to convince herself that it is hopeless, Lavellan can't stop thinking about him. Solas draws her in. </p><p>On a cold evening in Haven, Solas invites Lavellan into his hut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hopeless

Solas always seemed to visit the tavern before everyone else. The times she had meet him there, the tap room had almost been empty. It came as no surprise for Siryn.

He was a quiet man who preferred to keep to himself, watching and observing but rarely participating.

She could feel his gaze at her neck while she took a careful sip from her spoon. The soup was still hot enough to burn her tongue at it.

“More of the rebels are arriving with every passing day. Cullen has his former templars at the ready, should any of them show any sign of possession.”

Cassandra ripped her slice in half, dipping it into her mug.

“Oh? And here I thought this was an alliance.” Siryn could not entirely keep the sting from her voice.

“It is.” Cassandra sighed, her creased brow betraying her disapproval. “Still … These mages aren’t like you, Herold. They have willfully accepted an alliance with Tevinter … I fear they cannot be trusted entirely.”

Siryn pursed her lips. “And trading one jailer for the other will certainly help them feel safe and comfortable. It’s not like they are supposed to be our allies or whatever.”

“This decision is not yours to make. I only wanted to inform you, since you were the one who negotiated this alliance.”

Siryn narrowed her eyes; her spoon paused halfway to her lips. “We talked about that already. If you’re still angered by my choice, just say it.”

Cassandra sighed. “I’m … it’s not the choice I would’ve made, I admit that. Still, the problem remains. What would you advise us to do with possible abominations among the rebels?”

“Do everything to make them feel safe and free. If one of them turns out to be possessed, we’re still near enough to take care of that. I will not treat any of them as a suspect until they give me reason to.”

Why was she even arguing about it? It was obvious that her opinions on the matter would never align with those of the chantry – and the people who had once been or still were part of it.

Still, it reminded her that she was little more than a straw puppet, a figurehead for the still heavily chantry influenced Inquisition. There was no denying it. And now, that she had dared to make a decision on the Inquisition’s behalf, clearly overstepping the bounds of her role within the organization …

She had begun rattling at the bars of her cell, and …

Once again, she was strangely aware of him. Of his eyes, lingering at her, the slight curving of his lips as he seemed to smile. She had to resist the urge to look over to him, had to force herself to focus on Cassandra again.

“ … think about it. But I still believe we should take chances with the rebels, Lavellan. Even if none of them are abominations, it’s still possible that they have blood mages among them.”

“As long as they only use their own blood and don’t play puppet with your body, I don’t see why that should become a problem.” She would draw the line where someone’s freedom was at risk.

“You can’t seriously suggest …”

Siryn shrugged, trying her hardest to ignore him and focus on Cassandra. “I’m just saying: As long as they don’t harm anyone other themselves, why should we make a fuss about possible blood mages?”

Cassandra sighed. “The Chantry already disapproves of us enough as it is.”

“We’re not the Chantry. Or are we?” Siryn asked innocently, taking another careful sip of her still hot soup.

“We’re not.” Cassandra shook her head. “Very well”, she said, rising from her chair. “I should return to my work. But we should definitely discuss what to do with the mages soon. All of us.”

 _“Ma nuvenin_.”

Cassandra gave her a sharp nod before turning around and heading towards the entrance. A flush of cold air, biting the tips of her ears and her nose, and then the bang of door told Siryn that she had left.

Siryn returned to her meal, dipping the spoon into the soup.

With Cassandra gone, it was even harder to ignore him. To know that he sat there, just a few steps away … She could not finish her dinner soon enough. This was not at all a pleasant state to live in.

How had she ever been able to convince herself that he was nothing but a friend?

Solas was handsome. He was intelligent. He spoke with an almost melodic rhythm that draw her in, his voice soft as velvet but able to cut like a dagger if he wanted. She could never quite decide what color exactly his eyes were – sometimes, they seemed blue as the sky in autumn, only to remind her of a stormy sea or a clouded evening the next time she looked at them. They were often filled with a soft melancholy that sometimes turned to something bitter and sorrowful, so sad that she could not help but wonder what had caused it. And they always seemed to see more, to look deeper, where others only scratched the surface. He didn’t seem to smile often, but when it happened, he suddenly looked much younger, and she thought to catch glimpses of the happy man he once must have been …

It was not important. Whatever it was … she had no time for this infatuation, nor could she possibly hope he would return any of her feelings. The final sealing of the Breach closed in with every passing day, and she could hear his words ring in her ears as if he had told her yesterday and not months ago.

It was more than just a possibility that he would leave once the Breach had been sealed. Why should he concern himself with her, if he would leave in just another month?

As much as she would miss him …

It was hopeless, and childish, and she should better fast forget about it. And about him.

Siryn finished her meal and rose. The tavern filled slowly with guests – soldiers, tired from their exercise and daily drills; scouts, agitatedly talking about the things they’d seen on their way home; servants, finally finished with their everyday work. She slipped outside, drawing her jacket closer against the cold air.

The wind seemed to carry sharp knifes with it, biting into her skin – her ears, her nose, and her fingers hurt from the cold. Shuddering, she crossed her arms, sticking her hands under them against the sharp bite of the gale.

The effects of the warm soup already started to wear off …

“The evenings are cold these days, are they not?” The words were soft spoken, quiet.

Siryn froze. Solas. She would’ve recognized his voice amongst thousands of others.

She nodded, trying to ignore the wild bumping of her heart inside her chest, fast enough for it to hurt. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this sort of weather …”

“It takes some time, usually, but eventually one learns how to endure it. But I advise we should not linger here.”

Siryn turned her head, smiling weakly. “Yes … I think we’re blocking the door. And I’d rather not stay out here.”

Solas seemed to consider her for a moment, his eyes lingering at her face before they slowly crept down her shuddering form. His brow creased ever so subtly … he had a scar at his brow, crescent shaped, and it grew deeper with his frowning.  

“My cot is closer, Siryn. I would suggest we head there, at least until the wind pacifies.”

Siryn swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “Only if it don’t bothers you.”

He smiled. It was just a faint raising of the corners of his lips, and someone else might even have overlooked it, but it … made her suddenly feel all warm, despite the relentless chill. “One would think it would not, considering I made the suggestion myself.”

“Good point!”

Bowing her head against the cold wind, she followed him away from the tavern and up the stairs to the apothecary’s hut. When the weather had been milder, they’d often talked with each other there … back when things had been easier, and she had been able to pretend that he was just a good friend she had the luck of meeting amongst all the _shemlen._

These days seemed so far away now.

Solas opened the door to his hut – the one right to the apothecary – and she slipped inside before she could think at lengths about what it possibly meant. Because she was sure it meant nothing. It was not the first time she visited him here.

A kind gesture and nothing more.

“Thanks.”

“It was of no consequence.” Solas took off his coat and threw it over the backrest of the stair next to the door.

Siryn smiled, with the vague suspicion that it looked too nervous not to notice. She strolled over to his bed, seating herself at his edge, like she had done so often before when she visited him earlier. Except this time was nothing like the days before …

“I overheard your conversation with Cassandra”, he said, filling a cup with herbs and water that started to fume once his fingers touched the tankard.

“Oh? What do you think about it?”

“I do understand her position. Cassandra was raised to believe the Chantry doctrins, and the teachings of their circles are … problematic at best.”

Siryn raised an eyebrow. “I thought you would disagree with her. You advised me to take the mages in as allies, after all.”

“I said that I understand her, not that I believe she is right. Still …” He sat the tankard back at the table, stirring the tea. “… I do not expect anyone with chantry approved teachings to know how to safely interact with the Fade. I understand her wariness, if nothing else.”

“They don’t have to be possessed, or fall to temptation.”

“I never said they would.” Solas turned around, handing her the cup.

He had beautiful hands – long fingered, strong, but not rough at all, with callouses telling from his life in the wilderness, far away from everyone who sought to cage or slight him for his thoughts, his knowledge …

 _“Ma serannas.”_ She took the cup. “But what about you?”

“No. I am not particular fond of tea.”

“Ah …” She sighed, enjoying the warmth spreading from the cup into her fingers and palms. “It’s not a real alliance if we treat them like captives. Just because they wanted their freedom and did something dumb to secure it. They didn’t really have another choice, with Alexius manipulating time to recruit them.”

“I still wonder how he might have achieved it. Such a feat was deemed impossible for time without measure.”

“You could ask Dorian about it.” Siryn lifted the cup to her lips to take one careful sip. The tea was still hot enough to almost burn her tongue.

“I might think about it.” Solas’ brow creased ever so slightly. “Freedom should not be denied because of fortuity at birth. But I would advise you to stay ready should any problems arise with the rebels. Their defense against of spirits and understanding of the Fade is based of fear, and such a sentiment could make them dangerous.”

“Because the Fade is shaped by our thoughts and feelings?”

“Yes.” He nodded, his eyes never leaving her face, a passionate glint lingering inside them … as always, when he spoke about something important to him. “If you expect it to be a dangerous place full of demons which long to possess you, it will adapt. It is part of why the chantry’s teachings are so insufficient. True understanding cannot be achieved through means of fear.”

“And that’s why I won’t treat our allies as captives. It’s a good idea to be cautious, but we’re not the circle. People in captivity get desperate, they resign to desperate means or they just break and or their resolve weakens, and the circles had hundreds of those desperate people held together at one location. Wouldn’t that attract demons who feed on these emotions?”

Siryn tried to take a second sip from her cup, sighing when the warmth of the tea spread through her throat, stomach, her whole body.

“Yes, I would think so. It is wise of you to have their templar guards removed, to reassure them that they have not traded one circle for the other.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“I know.” His smile send a turmoil through her stomach. “I trust that your judgement will be for the best.”

“Not that my judgement would really weigh anything here.” She tried to focus on his words instead of his smile.

“I believe your decision regarding the mages has considerably strengthened your standing within the Inquisition. They might not all be pleased with it, and they certainly did not expect such initiative from you.” His gaze was almost too intense, sinking deep. In the dim light of his hut, his eyes were a dark grey-blue, dotted with gold from the candles burning on his desk. “But now they are aware that you are not their figurehead, but someone to be reckoned with. They will heed your advice, even if they might not act on it.”

“You truly think so?”

“You are certainly no frightened child waiting for others to set its course”, Solas answered, and there was … something in his gaze that she couldn’t quite define, but somehow it only strengthened the turmoil ravaging in her stomach. “You are strong and determined. I can … appreciate your finer qualities.”

She took another sip of tea, to hide the dumb smile that threatened to pull her lips up and betray her. This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. It meant nothing. Surely it wouldn’t take long until they’d be finally able to close the Breach, and she wouldn’t be surprise if he left afterwards. What reason would he have to stay? He had offered his assistance in closing the Breach, and once this was over with …

She wasn’t even sure if she would stay any longer herself. She had agreed in closing the Breach – it threatened everyone, not only the shemlen, and she would not sit idly by while it swallowed the world and she was the only one who could stop it.

But once she had fulfilled her part, why should she linger here? Their ways would part, inevitably.

Still …

What would it be like if …

“Thanks. I think I can return that.” She managed to give him a smile that looked a little more confident and friendly, and less idiotic.

Maybe it was but the dim light, but for a moment she thought to see his cheeks and ear tips redden. But maybe it was but the cold … despite the walls, it was still rather chilly inside his hut, the wood not able to block the cold air completely.

Yes, that seemed more likely … than the thought that her silly infatuation wasn’t as one-sided as she believed.

“Others weren’t as content with having me as their company. I am glad you think otherwise.” And there it was again … the quiet sadness in his eyes, a sadness he tried to hide under his composed demeanor.

She remembered that her own people hadn’t exactly treated him kindly in the past, and although she could understand why – even her clan would not take it well if an outsider tried to tell them about their heritage, claiming to know more and better on the subject than their own keeper – it made her feel guilty. Would she have treated him the same way? Called him a flat-ear and send him on his way, laughing?

Now that she knew him, it was easy to say “No”, she wouldn’t, but how could she be sure of it?

“Glad to make you glad”, she smirked, sipping at her cup. “I’d enjoy your company on my next travel … I think the Hinterlands should be safe enough now to secure horses for the Inquisition.”

It would be easier to get over him if she instead travelled with someone else, but she could not quite bring herself to leave him behind. She enjoyed his company and their conversation too much.

_“Ma nuvenin.”_

“Good.”

It was, at least, a relief that she could still talk with him without making a fool off herself. Maybe if they’d travelled together to the Hinterlands, she would finally learn to let go of this childish and hopeless infatuation.

It was for the better.

As much as a part of her wished it wasn’t.

 

 


End file.
